Dispatches from the Holy War: 8/31

MARCELLUS ANDREWS INVESTIGATION DRAGS ON

I’ve been re-reading this week some of the news reports regarding the death of Marcellus Andrews, 19, who died Aug. 21 after being beaten and kicked in the head in Waterloo. Charges have not been filed as Waterloo police continue their investigation, apparently knowing the identity of all involved in the fight during which Andrews was fatally injured.

Police have said circumstances of the death do not “rise to the threshold” required for it to be considered a hate crime under Iowa law even though Andrews was taunted with anti-gay slurs before he was killed.

Iowa hate crime law includes 10 protected characteristics: Race, color, religion, ancestry, national origin, political affiliation, sex, sexual orientation, age and physical/mental disability. Iowa law does not cover gender identity. Hate crimes also may be prosecuted at the federal level. The 2009 Matthew Shepard Act added gender, gender identity, sexual orientation and disability to the federal definition.

Hate crimes are notoriously difficult in many instances to prosecute and tend to give black eyes to the communities where they occurred. So it was interesting that the Waterloo-Cedar Falls Courier, rather than police, first reported the use of slurs. The logical question might be, would the slurs ever have been mentioned had a reporter not done his or her job? Gang-related violence is nothing new in Waterloo, so it could otherwise have been possible to sweep Andrews’ death under that dirty rug.

Police hemmed and hawed, then finally admitted that they were aware of the slurs.

The Waterloo-based media have been notably silent about the case since, although The Courier did manage last Thursday to produce a stupefyingly inane editorial drawing an analogy between Andrews’ death and the death in a boating accident of a 9-year-old, then extended condolences to the families of both.

The Des Moines Register’s Kyle Munson has provided the most perceptive coverage of the death, first on Aug. 26, then again on Sunday with a report from the prayer vigil held in the black neighborhood where Andrews died. That latter report is here.

Curiously, other media didn’t attend the vigil held in Waterloo’s black community. Other newspaper reporters and most television cameras were at a rally held by sorrowing white folks who didn’t know the deceased on the University of Northern Iowa campus.

Both Waterloo police and media, most likely through oversight, had managed to leave the impression that Andrews was somehow implicated in his own death, reporting without clarity earller “incidents” --- including vandalism of a car --- policed belived to be motivating factors in the fatal altercation.

Munson was alone in clarifying the situation --- that Andrews was an uninvolved bystander swept into a conflict he neither initiated nor had a stake in.

Munson also was alone in exploring the nuances of Andrews’ place in a community uncomfortable with homosexuality (the young man seems to have been widely perceived of as gay, but perhaps not to have acknowledged that sexual orientation) and a church whose pastor declared homosexuality a sin.

This is not a story that’s likely to go away, as perhaps many wish it would. So it will be interesting to see what happens as time advances.

MIKE GRONSTAL STANDS FIRM

Also last week, Iowa’s Senate Majority Leader Mike Gronstal, a Democrat, reaffirmed in an interview with The Associated Press his intention to block Republican efforts to embed a gay marriage ban in the Iowa Constitution when the Legislature reconvenes next year.

“I’m not going to put discrimination into the state’s constitution,” Gronstal said.

Democrats hold a narrow 26-24 majority in the Senate and, as leader, Gronstal is the arbiter of what legislation is considered there. He blocked GOP attempts to move a constitutional amendment forward during the recent session as well.

This means that vast amounts of GOP money will be spent in Grostal’s western Iowa district next year in an attempt to unseat him, and that’s shaping up as the Iowa holy wars continue, Christians vs. gay barbarians already inside the gates, to be the conflict to watch.

MEANWHILE ON THE MINNESOTA FRONT

Minnesotans, who will find a gay marriage ban on the constitutional ballot next fall thanks to legislative action in the most recent session, are bracing themselves for an ugly fight there and preachers already are being trained to rally their churches, according to various reports.

Census statistics reported upon last week showed that Minneapolis ranks fourth in the nation when the numbers of same-sex couples in major cities are tallied.

Iowa City ranked first in Iowa statistically, with 364 same-sex couples or 13.1 per 1,000 households, although Des Moines, with 901 couples, had the largest number of couples.

Iowa ranked 47th overall among states when same-sex-couple numbers were added up, not that strong a performance when you consider LGBT folks can marry here. But the number of self-identified couples still increased by 77 percent between 2000 and 2010, to 6,540 couples. Obviously, we’ve still got work promoting the institution.

THEY’RE GETTING MARRIED BY THE BUS FULL

Finally, here’s a story from the St. Louis Suburban Journals site about a bus full of same-sex couples, friends and family who made the trip recently to Iowa City to get married.

According to Wikipedia, that ultimate source of all that’s worth knowing, 2,020 same-sex couples were married here between April 2009 and March 2010, accounting for 10 percent of all marriages. Of the same-sex total, 815 were Iowans, the rest from elsewhere --- mostly Illinois, Missouri and Nebraska.

This obviously is an area where we have growth potential. I wonder if Lucas County Tourism has considered our potential as a gay marriage mecca. I may have to suggest it. Can you imagine the wailing and gnashing of sanctified dentures that would follow?

 

Graveyard communications

This recent floral tribute with note attached caught my eye Friday at Last Chance Cemetery, so I sat down to read it. It is situated near the graves of William Saunders and the two sisters he married. Pardon the thumb (below). There was no other way to hold the card in position.

It's a message, complete with e-mail address, from Larry Castle of Centennial, Colorado, a great-grandnephew of Francellan and Ann (Castle) Wagner, whose graves it is near.

The note is addressed to the living, however --- Castle hopes to contact someone with a link to or information about the family this way. The card is laminated and should last a long time, all things being equal.

It's an interesting genealogical strategy, and I hope it works.

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Laser engraving is among the newer innovations in tombstone technology, so it's not unusual these days to find a marker into which a portrait of the deceased has been etched. I like the idea, although it is expensive and requires a large stone to be used as a canvas.

The simpler technology demonstrated here, also at Last Chance, has been around since the opening years of the 20th century --- a photo image is fired onto a ceramic plaque which then is mounted on a tombstone.

You don't see it that often, but when you do it's worth taking a look --- into the eyes of those the tombstone memorializes.

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I've been visiting with my cousin, the alternate Frank, about this graveyard dog at Last Chance, mentioned earlier. He's more closely related to Laura Belle (Berg) Exley, who died during the 1940s and whose grave it is near.

We're concluding for the time being that it marks the otherwise unnoted grave of Laura's husband, Fred Exley, who survived his first wife by more than 40 years and died during 1998. Fred, Frank recalls, was a renowned coon hunter, so this perhaps represents in a general sort of way one of his hounds although it was put into place some years before his death.

That's where this investigation will stand until more information is forthcoming.

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Driving home from a meeting in Albia just after 8 last night we couldn't help but notice the diminishing length of these late August days. It was dark by the time the five us got back to Chariton. So cemeteries aren't the only place to consider time and its flight.

School started here last Thursday and the tomatoes have started ripening --- all at once (tomato blight is flouishing, too).

The neighbor sprays something onto his vines that seems to keep blight at bay and offered to lend me his sprayer, but I've never been comfortable with that idea --- so I'll enjoy the fruit of the vine while I can and otherwise let nature take its course.

Showers are in the forecast today, but the grass is cut so I don't mind. Then temperatures in the 90s are predicted again for the transition into September. It won't be long, however, before we start complaining about how cold it is.

A Sunday call on Squire Wadlington

I’d been meaning to pay Squire Wadlington another visit, but hadn’t gotten around to it even through he’s not far away --- down yonder from Sunny Slope Church of Christ just over the line from Wayne into Appanoose County. And there wasn’t much need to hurry anyway --- he’s been dead since 1878.

But Squire (whose given name was Spencer F.) was an interesting guy and his gravesite is an interesting place, buried as he is all by his lonesome under a big red cedar just north of the ruins of the fine brick house he built in 1866.

I finally got around to heading that way Sunday afternoon on a day that started out clear, then turned to rain and finally to a mix of clouds and sunshine. But cool.

To get there from here (Chariton), drive south on Highway 14 to the Millerton turn-off. Head east through Millerton to New York, cross the Jordan River, pass by Bethlehem and finally the pavement will come to a “T” with the Confidence-Promise City road at Sunny Slope.

Drive straight on east past the church, now on gravel instead of pavement, and keep going in that direction. If you go too far, you’ll drive into Lake Rathbun. Don’t do that. But you’ll know you’ve gone too far if see the lake and the long bridge downstream on the Plano road.

As you’re approaching the lake, you’ll enter a broad “S” curve. Keep your eyes focused on brush along the south side of the road just before you turn into the first part of the curve and you may catch a glimpse through a gap of the the tombstone surrounded by an iron fence and under its tree back in the pasture. Continue on around the curve and watch on the right for the gated entrance to the pasture driveway.

The folks who own the land don’t mind if you visit Squire and even mow access trails to his grave and around the ruins. Just make sure you close and chain the gate when you leave --- and stay out of the ruins, they could be dangerous and if there was anything there worth stealing it would have been stolen years ago.

This is the view of the house you’ll see down a short avenue of trees as you enter the gate. As you can see, it’s been eaten alive by brush and volunteer trees. All that's visible is the east gable end.

Swing to the northwest rather than heading straight for the house and you’ll come to the gravesite under the huge cedar that was planted more than 130 years ago to mark it. You'll be approaching from the southeast, but this photo was taken looking in that direction.

Here’s the grave in relationship to the house, its ruined north gable end just poking above the trees.

And here’s a close-up of the inscription, partly obscured by something I had no intention of getting anywhere near.

I’m indebted to Bill Heusinkveld’s excellent 1999 “Cemeteries of Appanoose County, Iowa,” in which he summarizes historical accounts of Wadlington. This way, I don’t have to go through my notes and do the work myself.

Wadlington was born Feb. 6, 1807, in Kentucky and arrived in Appanoose County during 1845, when he was about 38. The old Appanoose County history books maintain he’d married in Kentucky, secured a divorce after his wife cheated on him and after that did his best to avoid women entirely.

There is no proof, however, that he ever was married --- or that he was mad at women at all --- so he may just have been, as they say, a confirmed bachelor. By all accounts he was honest and genial, although considered a little peculiar.

Anyhow, he opened a primitive store in his cabin just northeast of where Centerville now stands in 1845, and the two commissioners appointed by the territorial legislature to locate the county seat met at that cabin before beginning their work. The first Appanoose County Board of Commissioners met in Wadlington’s cabin, too.

He eventually moved his store to the west side of the Centerville square and built a brick house in town. He served as probate judge, justice of the peace and as Centerville’s first mayor.

He also was a charter member of First Baptist Church and, according to Heusinkveld, gave the congregation its first bell. Because he was dissatisfied with its sound, he chipped in 25 silver dollars to be recast into it after it had been hauled by wagon to St. Louis for that purpose. Wadlington also was a devoted Mason.

As the 1850s ended, Wadlington shifted his interests from commerce and city life to farming and stock raising --- and life in the country. According to current owners of the property, Arthur and Mary Lemley, Squire bought his 250-acre farm in Independence Township from Joseph Delay during January of 1859.

The house on it was constructed in 1866, according to Heusinkveld, of brick burned where the house was built set atop a high basement of limestone quarried from a nearby outcrop. There also was a buggy and harness shed and a large brick barn, according to Heusinkveld.

On my last visit, the ruins of the house were entirely visible and it was possible to get a better idea of what it might once have looked like. There appeared to be four large rooms on the first floor on either side of a central stair hall. Each room had a fireplace served by a chimney stack that, unusual in Iowa, protruded from the exterior walls of the house.

Actually, I don’t know that there were that many fireplaces --- although the chimney stacks are of fireplace size, some may have served only stoves.

Here's the southwest chimney stack. Notice the fine brickwork and how well the bricks have endured the passage of time.

In addition to the north and south gable ends, gables roughly the size of the end gables were centered on the east and west facades and bedrooms were located in this half-story.

This is a view from the northwest toward the interior of the east gable, showing the upstairs window that would have faced the road.

By 1870, Wadlington had welcomed into his home the Martin Elam family. According to the Lemleys, the Elams were “traveling west to seek their fortune and happened upon Squire Wadlington’s farm to rest for the night. The Elams were a welcome addition to Squire’s life and he invited them to stay.” This information is included on a sign attached to the cedar tree guarding Wadlington’s grave.

In addition to the Elams, Squire’s younger brother, James Wadlington, was sharing his home during 1870, according to census records.

Wadlington died here on Nov. 4, 1878, reportedly of the effects of a harrowing trip home from Centerville in a snowstorm and infection in a leg caused by a kick from a mule. At his request, the Elams buried him just north of the house and the big red cedar now standing sentinel was planted to mark the spot.

Wadlington had willed his farm to Martin Elam, who farmed it until his own death in 1911. It was then purchased by Elam’s daughter, Dora, and her husband, Cal Teater, who farmed it until 1945. Their son, Martin M. Teater, farmed the place until 1961, when Lesley F. Lemley purchased it. Arthur and Mary Lemley inherited the farm from Lesley, according to the sign. They were responsible for restoring Wadlington’s gravesite.

Very little of the house can be seen now, although more will be evident during winter when leaves have fallen. The brick shell seems to be largely intact although at least one gable has fallen --- and the brickwork and stonework is fine. The roof and the frame interior, however, have collapsed.

Anyhow, that’s the story of my Sunday afternoon visit to Squire Wadlington. It’s an interesting place, worth the visit just to say you’ve been there. There’s nothing else quite like it around here.

Hear that lonesome windmill's song

Sounds trigger memories, and out at Last Chance Friday, I began to hear a familiar song rising from silence with the wind --- music to my ears.

Somewhere windmill blades were spinning endlessly in the breeze, going nowhere fast, unhitched from the mechanism that had once secured them, metal surfaces in need of greasing grinding gently.

I walked back to the cemetery entrance from its prow, surrounded by timber, and took a look south. Sure enough, there it was.

I’m surprised I missed it driving in, but headed west down the old Mormon Trace earlier I’d caught sight of the first landmark straight ahead --- the final incarnation of Last Chance Church converted into a house --- then began scanning the north side of the road for the driveway entrance. Hadn’t even glanced to the left.

The alternate Frank stopped at the state library in Des Moines last week to find out how many horses there were in Lucas County during 1895 --- the peak year enumerated. Twelve thousand.

While there weren’t that many windmills, hundreds of them were scattered across the countryside then, and well into the 20th century. Nearly every farmstead had at least one; some had more.

When I was a kid, our windmill was on the south side of the creek in a little valley north of the farmstead. Carl and Margaret Cottrell’s windmill was on the other side of the creek, a little way northwest.

A windmill is a wonderfully efficient and relatively simple device. The blades empower a shaft that powers a pump that the lifts water from the well and forces it to go where you want it to.

Ours filled two stock tanks on either sides of the road at the top of the hill. When the water level was low, someone walked to the bottom of the hill, released the mechanism that secured the blades, allowing them to turn into the wind, and pumping began. When the tanks were full or overflowing, the process was repeated, the windmill head turned and secured.

As years passed, Dad replaced the windmill-powered pump with an electric pump that operated from a switch at the top of the hill and the old mill became redundant. He sold it off eventually to Kansas or Nebraska where, quite possibly, it continues to pump water into an isolated stock tank far from power lines.

Carl’s and Margaret’s windmill, although no longer used, remained in place. When they left the farm and new owners allowed a once-immaculate place to fall apart, the mill’s restraining mechanism failed and the blades began to turn in the wind --- endlessly.

That lonesome sound became part of the background music --- not constantly and not annoyingly although the sound sometimes spooked strangers who didn’t know what it was, especially if outside at night.

And there it was, that lonesome song again, on Friday, generated by an abandoned mill that is one of the few still standing in Lucas County.

The Cottrell windmill, many years later, was rescued by their daughter, Doris, and her husband, Ron; brought to their place near Chariton, restored and re-erected. It doesn’t sing any more --- the blades are secured --- but at least it still stands. And if the need ever arose, I’m sure Ron could figure out some way to make it pump (and sing) again.

Dispatches from the Holy War: 8/27

IOWA'S SAMUEL BRINTON CONTINUES TO FLOURISH

On a positive note, Sam Brinton appears to be flourishing. Brinton is the 2006 Perry High School graduate who told his story of parental abuse and rejection by former Southern Baptist missionary parents last October as part of Nathan Manske’s “I’m From Driftwood” project. The first part of that story is here; the second half of the story, here.

To make that long story short, Brinton --- then a senior at Kansas State University, Manhattan --- told Mankse of childhood beatings by his father, who suspected he might be gay, so severe that Sam ended up in emergency rooms several times; exposure to extensive conversion therapy that included electric shock; suicide attempts; repression in order to avoid further punishment; and finally outright rejection when he told his parents after enrolling in college that none of it had worked and that he was, indeed, gay.

Between October and now, Brinton has completed his studies at Kansas State, earning a bachelor of science degree in mechanical engineering with nuclear engineering option and a bachelor of arts degree in music with permance emphasis and a minor in Chinese language. His parents and two younger siblings attended his graduation, apparently representing a degree of reconciliation.

Brinton has moved to Cambridge, Mass., where he now is a graduate student in nuclear engineering at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology --- and an activist against “repairative” therapy and the ex-gay movement.

He was featured this week in a front-page story in “Bay Windows,” a Boston-based publication that describes itself as “New England’s Largest GLBT Newspaper.” You can find that story here.

Why would Christian parents throw away such a bright, creative and annoyingly upbeat and energentic kid? Oh wait, he’s gay.

CANDLES FOR MARCELLUS ANDREWS

Several hundred Iowans participated in candlelight vigils Thursday night across the state in memory of 19-year-old Marcellus Andrews, whose funeral is today in Waterloo. Andrews was beaten to death in Waterloo last weekend during a fight after being subjected to anti-gay slurs. Waterloo police maintain the beating death does not “rise to the threshold” required by Iowa law for it to be considered a hate crime.

The Register’s Kyle Munson did as good a job as I’ve seen of putting everything into context in a column published in Friday’s edition, which is here.

It seems as if Andrews was an innocent bystander, in every sense, a victim of bizarre and violent heterosexual mating rituals. Apparently one of the attackers had been involved with one of Andrews’ female friends and that is considered by police the principal motive for the altercation. The attackers just decided call Andrews a faggot, among other things, and kill him as kind of an aside.

FEDERAL FUNDING FOR THE FAMILY LEADER

The Associated Press has concluded, after an investigation, what many Iowans already figured --- that Bob Vander Plaats’ right-wing Iowa Family Policy Center (now a division of The Family Leader) used a share of $2.2 million in federal funding it received as a provider of marriage counseling services to pay overhead for its drive to unseat three Iowa Supreme Court justices last year. That wasn’t against the law, the AP concluded. Gotta love it. Here’s The Iowa Independent’s report.

GOVERNOR GOODHAIR TAKES THE PLEDGE 

Texas Gov. Rick Perry has joined Michele Bachmann, Mitt Romney and Rick Santorum as signers of the National Organization for Marriage’s anti-gay marriage pledge --- hardly a surprise. The four have promised to, among other things, promote a constitutional amendment defining marriage as one man/one woman (at a time, serial polygamy’s still OK), nominate only homophobic Republican wingnuts for Supreme Court and federal judicial openings and to defend DOMA vigorously. Nothing new there.

The scary part calls for establishment of “a presidential commission on religious liberty to investigate and document reports of Americans who have been harassed or threatened for exercising key civil rights to organize, to speak, to donate or to vote for marriage and to propose new protections, if needed.” That one almost takes a guy’s breath away.

Perry, or “Governor Goodhair” as the late great Molly Ivins used to call him, will be in Ottumwa at mid-afternoon today, then will attend a GOP fund-raising event at the fairgrounds in Des Moines this evening. So hide your babies. That hair might explode.

SPARE ME THE BUGLES

And finally, President Obama is due to be in Minneapolis Tuesday to address the national convention of the American Legion, reportedly on unemployment, a problem for veterans. Whether they'll crucify the poor guy for his part in ending Don't Ask Don't Tell is another matter.

The Legion does good work as an advocate for veterans. Big in graveside rites, too. Chariton’s post has a great building of considerable architectural importance. A healthy post is one route to a healthy building, so I hope those legionnaires live long and prosper.

The group’s national leadership, however, is a little cranky. To say it “opposed” the repeal of DADT is a bit of an understatement.

I’ve always fancied a government tombstone, one of those upright ones rarely seen outside military cemeteries these days. I’m entitled and maybe I’ll arrange it, but will take a pass on graveside rites. Those good old boys can grab their bugles and find a straight corpse to toot over.

Graveyard dogs

The guardian dog at Last Chance Cemetery, some 20 miles southwest of Chariton in Union Township.

The hoopla surrounding Hawkeye, pet of the late U.S. Navy SEAL Jon Tumilson, grows weirder, reinforcing the notion that many people are just plain nuts. Hawkeye now has his own Facebook page and former University of Iowa Hawkeye football player Jon Lazar grabbed some attention yesterday by proposing that the dog lead the team onto the field at the start of a game this fall. “I think everyone would be crying in the stands,” Lazar told The Register.

It’s all beginning to seem exploitive and perhaps disrespectful toward the memories of other U.S. troops who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan, but didn’t own appealing pets. Tumilson’s family and friends have had nothing to do with initiating this silliness, preoccupied still I would guess by grief.

But dogs have a long history as “man’s best friend,” reflected in interesting ways. I’m always bemused when dogs are mentioned as survivors in obituaries. I believe the memorial park on Ottumwa’s northeast side has a pet section. And some undertakers offer services for pets --- and grief counseling.

I’m not entirely an insensitive clod, however, and remember crying a little when my childhood pet, Skippy, met an accidental death (we buried him along the fence line on a hill with a view). My dad used to call home, when on vacation, to check the status of his beloved Blackie, and buried that pet, when it died of old age, where it fell asleep the last time --- the dog’s favorite place in the sun just south of the house.

And now and then this connection between human and canine friends is reflected in cemeteries.

I drove out to Last Chance yesterday afternoon in part to take a photo of the canine guardian there. This concrete dog has been in place as long as I can remember, but for the life of me I can’t remember its story. I’ll check later with my cousin, the alternate Frank. He may remember.

The dog sits facing south at the south end of a lot occupied among others by my distant cousin, Laura Belle (Berg) Exley, who died in the 1940s, and two of her infant children. These graves were not marked for a number of years and perhaps this dog was placed as a tombstone, although it has no inscription.

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Cliff Brewer and I were playing a round of the old Lucas County game, let’s-figure-out-how-we’re-almost-related, the other day (his aunt generations removed, Gay Webb, was the wife of my uncle generations removed, Owen Miller the first), when he happened to mention a brother of his who died in infancy. The baby was buried at Strong, sometimes aka Belinda, Cemetery --- but there was no money to buy a tombstone. So his dad found a field stone that seemed to him to be shaped like a dog and moved it to the cemetery to mark the burial place. As years passed, someone removed the stone and so the grave now is lost.

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And my friend Dianne pointed out a year or two ago these side-by-side tombstones in the Chariton Cemetery that commemorate, in spirit at least, several beloved pets.

These stones are located east of the cemetery's most easterly drive, towards the south end of the original ceemtery.

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Southern Iowa’s best known cemetery dog probably is the sculpted greyhound located on the Thomas J. Nash lot in Ottumwa’s big city cemetery. It was vandalized during 2004, then restored and put back into place. This is a city of Ottumwa photo of it.

There are all sorts of stories about this dog’s origin, although it may guard the grave of Nash’s four-year-old grandson, George. Here’s a link to a page that offers more information about this cemetery dog.

I really like all of this doggy symbolism; nothing at all the matter with any of it. Just trying to say, sort of, that dogs are wonderful  in their own way, and deserving of honor for it, entirely without the need to be humanized. When we start attributing humanity to them, or substituing doggy love for people love, it gets a little spooky. 

Cleaning barns & the gates of heaven

Several of us spent Thursday morning --- lovely and cool --- cleaning out the barn loft at the museum. It looks fairly tidy now (above), but that's a little deceptive. Since we'd underestimated the scale of pointless junk stashed up there, some of it remains stacked downstairs awaiting arrival of a dumpster.

There were enough used plastic dropcloths to wrap the entire barn --- seriously. Piles of scrap lumber that even our best woodworkers could think of no use for other than fuel. Sheets of crumbling foam insulation. And so on.

I'm told the loft, which actually was intended for storage, looked initially much like it did when we were done. But after the floor had been covered entirely and it became difficult to walk up there, later items were carried up the stairs and tossed on top.

Sounds (and looked) like the difficulties a lot of us have with home storage areas. You start out being careful, then start stacking, then start tossing and finally don't even open the door.

Now at least it's possible to get to the few few actual artifacts in need to attention that will remain in the loft until we figure out what to do with them.

This heap of wood (arranged more carefully that it appears to be) is the disassembled blades of a giant wooden windmill that once supplied the Ilion (aka Mallory's Castle) and the Mallorys' Brook Farm with water. The massive tail --- more than eight feet long ---  is leaning against the wall nearby. Both probably date from the 1880s. Eventually, we'll reassemble the blade and mount it somewhere with the tail nearby. But when and where are open questions.

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This blog has gotten tangled up in one of those "viral" moments that the Internet is prone to, involding the late Jon Tumilson, a U.S. Navy Seal from Rockford who was killed in Afghanistan Aug. 6, and his dog, Hawkeye. I posted a photo taken during happier times of Tumilson and his dog here soon after his death was announced.

Hawkeye was brought to Tumilson's funeral at Rudd-Rockford-Marble Rock Community School last week by the family and because he is a bright, mellow and well-trained dog, lay quietly near his master's flag-draped coffin during the service.

A Tumilson cousin, seated on the aisle, took a photo of this with her cell phone and the compelling image also was captured on video by the Mason City CBS affiliate which, along with the Mason City newspaper, was  authorized to record parts of the service that did not include Navy SEALs.

As those images began to circulate on the Web early this week, they capured the imaginations of hundreds of thousands of people who began launching Google Image and other searches. Because of Google indexing, page views of the Tumilson image on this blog began to increase Sunday and yesterday alone, more than 800 people took a look at it here.

I glanced again at the Tumilson tribute page on Facebook last evening. The "like" total had increased from perhaps 8,000 at the time of the funeral to in excess of 13,000 and condolence posts, many of them directed to the dog, were being added at a rate of about one a minute --- from around the globe.

It's an interesting phenomenon demonstrating the power of an image --- and of our imaginations. I don't mean to rain on anyone's parade (keep in mind I'm a dog-liker, not a dog-lover), but it seems unlikely because of the circumstances of Tumilson's death and the nature of dogs that Hawkeye knows what happened to his master, or  understood the significance of what was going on in Rockford Friday morning.

But many of the posts, several of which I read earlier and a few more last night, are interesting and moving. There seems to be a general assumption, even among some who appear to be devoutly Christian, that death in combat assures immediate ascent to heaven and that when Hawkeye dies, he'll join his master there.

These are lovely thoughts, and as more or less a universalist I'm in favor. My heaven certaily will include  pets. Both man and dog are eminently worthy, in my estimation. The scriptural base for all of this is a little shaky, however.

But I'm a big believer in grace and the benefits of doubt. Hopefully, all who feel that that the gates of heaven are open generously in this instance will be similarly inclined when those knocking on them are less compelling.

Henry Kubitshek's house

It always makes me happy to reunite an old building with some of its history, so I was really happy this week when I discovered that this plain stucco-over-brick house at the corner of South Grand and Linden streets in Chariton started life as the Kubitshek family home. It’s not much to look at now, but in its day I’m sure it was quite the house.

I’ve always been kind of interested in it because it looks old, and as it turns out it is, built during 1875 --- a rare early brick house in a town where most homes were of frame construction until architect William L. Perkins came along early in the 20th century and popularized domestic brick (and concrete) --- quite innovative in his time.

The Kubitshek house is a very plain rectangle, although it seems to me there once was a bay window on its south façade. The heavy stucco covering hides the brickwork entirely and any trim that it once had, and it probably had considerable, has long since been removed. There may have been porches, too. I’d love to see a pre-1900 photo of it, but that seems unlikely.

My great-aunt, Vesta (Brenaman) Miller, lived (and died) in the ground floor apartment of this house after moving into Chariton from the farm after the death of Uncle Clair Miller. But for some reason I can’t remember a thing about the interior.

Henry Kubitshek is a really interesting guy and I’ll have more to write about him another time. He was Chariton’s first long-term Jewish resident, a grocer and entrepreneur who accumulated considerable property.

A veteran of the Civil War, Henry arrived in Chariton with his wife, Deborah, not long after the war ended, perhaps during 1870.

His home, just south of the post office and across Grand from First Baptist Church, can be dated to late summer and fall, 1875, because The Chariton Patriot reported in its Aug. 18 issue: “Henry Kubitshek is building a neat two story brick residence on the corner lot north of the Christian Church.” The Patriot estimated the home’s cost at $4,000 --- a considerable amount at that time.

Henry had purchased the property, Lot No. 2 in Block 16 of the original town of Chariton, on May 18, 1875, from Daniel Eikenberry.

Block 16 originally was divided into eight large lots, four facing South Grand and the other four, South 8th Street.

The lot immediately south of the Kubitshek property was sold on Nov. 16, 1866, to the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and that congregation built its first church there soon thereafter. About 1891, the Christians relocated north of the northeast corner of the square and the church building was sold to the Cumberland Presbyterians on March 1, 1892. That congregation used the church until 1898, when it was sold to H. B. Stewart and the building demolished. Subsequently, the lot was divided in half length-wise and two large homes built upon it. One of those houses, which had become derelict, was torn down recently; the other still stands.

The two southern-most lots facing Grand now are occupied by the Stuart home and, on the corner, the Masonic Temple.

The Kubitsheks lived in their fine brick home until about 1900, when they moved from Chariton to Denver, Colorado, where one of their daughters lived. The property was transferred to Margaret Jane Rubel in a deed dated Sept. 30, 1899.

At some point thereafter, the back half of the lot was subdivided and a newer home built east of the Kubitshek house, facing Linden Street.

Henry died in Denver during 1914 and Deborah, during the 1920s. But their house, somewhat battered and probably beyond restoration, still is going strong.

Dispatches from the Holy Wars

Point of Grace Church

TAKING THE “HAPPY” OUT OF HAPPY TIME

 

KCCI-TV (Des Moines) has been reporting on a surprise that aspiring Waukee megachurch Point of Grace pulled Friday on 22 workers at the previously nonsectarian daycare and preschool, Happy Time, which had operated for some time in its building.

After announcing that there had been a “change in management” and that the program had been renamed Point of Grace Christian Academy, workers were told they would have to reapply for their jobs if they expected to stay and also take the Christian pledge. The fall session is scheduled to begin Sept. 6.

Among the new requirements: Preschool/daycare workers must be born-again Christians who are active members of an evangelical church.

The pledge requires workers to abstain on their own time from sex outside of marriage, homosexual conduct, the viewing of pornography, drinking alcohol, using profane language or any other behavior that would “question” their Christian testimony.

It’s not clear if 3- and 4-year-olds who haven’t yet toddled up front to answer altar call will be welcome, or exactly where on the Point of Grace campus future employees who violate the code will be stoned.

Senior Point of Grace Pastor Jeff Mullen is fairly well known among Iowa evangelicals. He was among the lead campaigners in last year’s successful drive to unseat three Supreme Court justices who participated in the unanimous decision affirming same-sex marriage. Point o f Grace also is a favorite of Michele Bachman, who preached there on July 4 and stopped by for services with husband, Marcus, on Aug. 7.

Mullen told KCCI that the new daycare/preschool rules were intended to help his congregation “point people to Jesus” and thanked The Register, which got around to reporting the story this morning, for all the free publicity.

Point of Grace is entirely within its rights to establish such rules and regulations, of course. But they do make a guy wonder a little about what the congregation would do if a sinner actually walked in the front door some Sunday morning and tried to take a seat among the saved. Sic a deacon on him and chase him down the street?

WHO DO YOU TRUST?

The story of Marcellus Andrews, the 19-year-old Waterloo man beaten to death early Friday (life support removed Sunday) after, witnesses reported, being taunted with gay slurs, has taken on a life of its own via social media and Web-based reporting.

Waterloo police say they are not investigating the death as a hate crime, citing previous “history” between Andrews and his assailants. Although that caveat is included in most Iowa reports, it has come unhitched for the most part elsewhere and so the death now is generally perceived and reported as a case of gay bashing, even at Huffington Post level.

Candlelight vigils for Andrews have been held, or are scheduled, in various cities and a “porch light” campaign launched.

Part of the difficulty is, no arrests have been made (although there apparently are suspects) and police have not clarified what “history” is. Does this mean Andrews, who had completed a cosmetology course, planned to study interior design, led his church drill team and liked to hang out with girls, was a member of a warring gang? Or does it mean he had been taunted before, but that his harassers just neglected to kill him previously?

It’s an interesting situation and a fairly good example of how instant communications, combined with poor public relations, can change the nature of “the news,” especially when the news is tragic.

It’s also another potential black eye for Waterloo, which has a history of troubled race relations.

Some are accusing LGBT activists of twisting the facts in pursuit of an agenda, and there’s most likely some truth in that. But the situation also reflects deeper levels of distrust. Those of us who are LGBT really do try to be nice much of the time, and appreciate support, but have learned the hard way not to trust straight folks. So a death linked to gay slurs will be perceived as an expression of hate and the conclusion, factual or otherwise, will be that heterosexuals in charge will deny it. The effect doubles when the dead guy is black.

Stone of hope, some despair

On a substantially more positive note, the new Martin Luther King Jr. National Memorial will be dedicated Sunday in Washington, D.C., the 48th anniversary of the March on Washington and Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech at the Lincoln Memorial.

Who could have known in 1984 --- when Alpha Phi Alpha, the black fraternity that led the drive that resulted in the memorial, began its work --- that the United States would have a black president, Barack Obama, during its year of dedication?

The centerpiece of the memorial is designed to express in stone a line from Dr. King’s Dream speech: “With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.”

King’s image is carved onto the leading edge of a giant wedge of stone, the Stone of Hope, designed to appear as if it had been sliced from the middle of the Mountain of Despair and propelled forward into the freedom of an open plaza facing the Tidal Basin, leaving a gateway so that others might follow him through.

Reading last night, I was reminded again that it took World War II to end the outrageous and morally bankrupting institutionalized racism that had prevailed until then in the U.S. military and many more years to knock down other institutionalized barriers to black people.

Even though racism remains, I would guess, a daily factor in the lives of most black Americans, we’ve come a long way --- thanks in large part to Dr. King. Who better to be memorialized among our greatest presidents?

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Back in Iowa, Waterloo police are investigating the possibility that hate based on sexual orientation rather than race was a factor in the death of a young black man, Marcellus Andrews, 19. Andrews died early Sunday after life support systems were removed at University Hospitals in Iowa City. He had been fatally injured during a fight in Waterloo early Friday.

Witnesses told the Waterloo-Cedar Falls Courier that some of those involved in the fight that killed Andrews had taunted him with anti-gay slurs.

Andrews, who planned to study interior design at Hawkeye Community College this fall, also was a leader of a drill team sponsored by his church, Union Missionary Baptist. He was visiting with two young women who were his friends when, they told the Courier, passengers in a truck that had pulled up in front of the house began taunting Andrews.

Waterloo police deny that anti-gay sentiments were involved and say no witnesses reported slurs to them. Anti-gay motivation would cause both Iowa and federal hate-crime statutes to become a factor in the case.

It’s a tragic situation, and perhaps a reminder that although we’ve come a long way, there’s a ways to go.

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Remind me not to write positive things about Republican presidential candidates. John Huntsman now, apparently, wants Michele Bachmann’s vice-presidential nod. I’ll never question the insanity of a Republican again.

Do tell: Two gay heroes

U.S. Army Maj. Alan G. Rogers

The recent spike in U.S. troop deaths in Afghanistan brought to mind two gay men who have served with distinction, and in one case died, in our post 9/11 wars --- heroes, too, in both the generic and specific senses that we have used that word since terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon.

U.S. Marine Staff Sgt. Eric Alva, the first among U.S. military personnel wounded in Operation Iraqi Freedom, survived to become a warrior against Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. U.S. Army Maj. Alan G. Rogers did not survive and, in dying, became the first known LGBT fatality.

There’s little doubt that thousands of gay and lesbian U.S. troops have served in these wars and that many have been killed, but the institutional hypocrisy of DADT, set to expire Sept. 20, has almost guaranteed that the majority will not be acknowledged.

The best estimates are that in excess of 14,000 U.S. troops have been discharged under DADT since its inception in 1993, many the victims of witch hunts, others victimized by their own bravery in speaking out. That number most likely is only a small fraction of the number who have served and died honorably, and continue to do so, shielded by their own silence and, in many cases, by supportive comrades.

Alva, a San Antonio native, now 40, enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps at age 19 in 1990. He served in Somalia during Operation Restore Hope and for 10 years in Japan and California before his unit, 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines, was deployed to the Middle East.

That unit was among the first to cross from Kuwait into Iraq as Operation Iraqi Freedom commenced on March 21, 2003, and three hours into the operation Alva stepped on a landmine that broke his left leg, resulted in the amputation of his right leg and left him with permanent nerve damage to his right arm. Thus, he became the first Iraqi Freedom casualty and its first Purple Heart recipient.

Alva did not speak out about his sexual orientation until after he had undergone many months of recuperation and physical therapy, received a medical discharge and returned to college.

In 2007, Alva became an activist in opposition to DADT and fulfilled that mission so effectively than when President Obama signed repealing legislation on Dec. 22, 2010, he was standing behind the president, observing. He continues to be a spokesman and activist for the Human Rights Campaign.

Alan G. Rogers’ story is considerably more poignant. He’s a special hero of mine in part because we both wore the M.I. symbol of stacked sun, dagger and rose, although there’s a substantial difference between buck sergeant and major.

Born in New York City during 1967 to a mother who placed him for adoption, Rogers remained in an orphanage until age 3 when he was adopted by George and Genevieve Rogers. At age 10, he moved with his mother to Hampton, Florida, so that she could care for her aging mother. George joined them there upon retirement.

His parents never told him that he was adopted, a fact he discovered for himself after they both died, George during 2000 and Genevieve, during 2002. A stellar student, he was active in Ebenezer Missionary Baptist Church, a congregation that also ordained him to preach as a young man.

Rogers had set his sights on a military career, serving in the enlisted ranks during Operation Desert Shield. After earning a bachelor’s degree in religion at the University of Florida on a R.O.T.C. scholarship, he accepted a commission as an intelligence officer.

During a career that included two tours of duty in Korea and duty in the initial phase of Operation Iraqi Freedom he earned other advanced degrees.

Rogers began his third tour of duty in Iraq during late 2007 where he was assigned to the 1st Division National Police Transition Team, which involved embedding with Iraqi military units in an effort to train them for eventual self-sufficiency. He was killed by an I.E.D. while on routine patrol on Jan. 27, 2008. He had previously earned two Bronze Star medals and was awarded a Purple Heart posthumously.

After his death, it became clear that Rogers had lived the sort of strictly compartmentalized life that many LGBT people felt necessary, as some still do, for survival. He was open about his sexual orientation among heterosexual Florida friends, to whom it didn’t matter, as well as to his only surviving family members, distant and disapproving cousins.

His heterosexual military friends and co-workers had no idea of his sexual orientation, but another set of friends and colleagues, who also were gay, were fully aware. He had become active while stationed in Washington, D.C., in the gay rights advocacy groups American Veterans for Equal Rights and the Servicemembers Legal Defense Network. A thesis written during advanced studies at Georgetown University, apparently destroyed by others as part of a posthumous effort to blur his sexuality, had dealt with the effects of DADT on the military.

Universally praised as a stellar officer and human being by colleagues of all orientations, something of a battle developed after his death over how he would be remembered --- driven it seems in part by some heterosexual military personnel stationed at the Pentagon. Even The Washington Post became embroiled in controversy when it carefully and consciously omitted references to his sexual orientation from a glowing profile that followed his death.

It took an exceptionional piece of journalism by Ben McGrath, published on Aug. 4, 2008, in The New Yorker to clear the air. It was headlined, “A Soldier’s Legacy: Don’t ask, don’t tell, but Alan Rogers was a hero to everyone who knew him.”

In large part because of that, Rogers’ legacy as a outstanding soldier and human being who by luck of the draw happened to be gay is now secure.

Alan Rogers grave at Arlington National Cemetery

Praire home companion

Prairie blazing star.

The plan was --- hike through prairie remnants along the lower end of the 13-mile Cinder Path every couple of weeks so as not to miss anything. Didn't do that; missed a lot. But I've done my best in the last couple of days to catch up, finishing up on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Now if I can just stay on track into October.

I walked three sites because the variety of plants at each differs --- Derby (a few minutes' walk down the trail east of town); county line (right along Highway 65 where Lucas and Wayne counties meet; look for the bulk tank as your landmark) and Humeston (a 10-minute walk north through a tunnel of green to open sky north of the path's southern trailhead).

If you do this, too, tread a little carefully because you're walking through history. This is not recreated prairie; the plants descend directly in these fragments from those that once blanketed much of Iowa and had done so for millenia. If you step on something rare, it'll survive (bison once walked this way) --- but you might spoil it for the next visitor.

Wear sturdy shoes and long pants, too, becuase you'll have to get off the trail to really enjoy all of this and vegetation now ranges from knee- to shoulder-height.

The best show of prairie blazing star is just winding down at the county line site --- thousands of lavendar spkes rising from relatively short grasses between Highway 65 and the trail. These were at their best a couple of weeks ago, but there's still plenty of color and the spikes will remain distinctive into winter.

A lavish display of prairie blazing star.

Rough blazing star is just starting to bloom, but the examples of this I spotted were at the Humeston site and I'll go back when they're more colorful. For some reason, rough blazing star is rarer along the trail.

It's hard to miss rattlesnake master because of its distinctive bloom, past prime here and headed into seed, but the only examples I found were at the Derby site. Roots of this plants reportedly were used by American Indians to treat rattlesnake bites, hence the name.

I'm not good at sorting out all the golds that look like or actually are sunflowers of one variety of another, so you're on your own so far as this one is concerned.

Partridge peas, however, are easy to recognize so I'm really good at that. There still are many of these little guys blooming low in shorter grassy areas.

I'm a sucker for compass plant because of its distinctive foliage, generally aligned north to south hence compass, its distinctive tall spikey bloom stalks and its extreme sturdiness (tap roots go down into prairie soil as far as 14 feet). This big specimen nearly lost except for its spikes  at the Humeston site had sent up three bloom stalks which had gotten so tall and topheavy that they had fallen over.

There's nothing about a compass plant that I do not like.

You can get a little better idea of the foliage in this shot of a smaller specimen.

So that's the prairie update for Monday. There's lots more to see and I'll be headed back as southern Iowa fields, roadsides and prairie remnants begin to blaze gold.

Take a prairie walk yourself. You run into interesting people on these outings, too. I had a good talk along the trail Sunday with the mayor pro tem of Humeston. You just never know.

Yikes! A sane Republican

It’s a scary thing when a guy starts feeling kind of warm and fuzzy about a GOP presidential contender --- not that I’d ever vote for one. But Jon Huntsman actually makes sense now and then. That’s rare in the Republican field.

Take his Tweet last week: "To be clear, I believe in evolution and trust scientists on global warming. Call me crazy."

Crazy, sure, if he hopes to win a nomination from the barbed wire and detention camp crowd fixated now on damnfools (Rick Perry), damnfool zealots (Michele Bachmann) and outright hypocrites (Romney). Plus Ron Paul, whose lunacy kind of defies description.

But, given the chance, Huntsman just might just pick up enough votes to win among Republicans who haven’t yet taken the know-nothing pledge, independents and a few Democrats underwhelmed by the Obama record.

He certainly has credentials, more than the rest can say. During his time as Utah governor (2004-2009), he managed to cut taxes by $400 million, still maintain a budget surplus and help win for his home state the designation “Best Managed State in America” from the Pew Research Center and recognition as one of best states in the country in which to do business. (He resigned during 2009 to accept President Obama’s nomination as U.S. ambassador to China).

Huntsman seems to be something of an emergent --- both as a Mormon and as a Republican, willing to talk to and work with folks of other faiths, both religious and political. He also favors civil unions (although not same-sex marriage), doesn't believe God created fossils as decor for rocks and hasn't added his John Henry to the dumbass sign-up sheet.

It’ll be interesting to see how his act plays among Republicans outside Iowa, where his likes haven't a prayer. He’s also the son of a billionaire (Jon Huntsman Sr.), so he can afford politics.

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Back in Iowa this morning, The Register is tip-toeing in a mildly critical way around the fact our new/old Republican governor, Terry Branstad, is stacking the regulatory deck against the environment with key political appointments.

That’s hardly a surprise and it’s only fair to point out that the Department of Natural Resources took big budget hits during two previous, Democratic, administrations.

Still, I’d really like a little cleaner water (you certainly cannot drink and in some instances can’t even wade in Iowa’s safely). Get near a hog confinement operation and you can’t breathe either.

Another Register report deals with Branstad’s continuing assault on the Department of Inspections and Appeals, which regulates nursing homes and other health-care facilities.

Iowa already ranks close to the bottom when it comes to actually inspecting nursing homes and the like --- but the governor campaigned in part on a pledge to reduce oversight even further.

We certainly live in interesting times.

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On a more positive note, I seem to be giving up red meat --- and can't quite figure out why. Perhaps I was grossed out by one too many bratwurst. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with personal aversions to feed lots or confinement operations, although I've got them. If it did, although I rarely eat chicken, I’d give up eggs, too, since they’re produced for the most part in similar set-ups.

Actually, I’ve never been an enthusiastic meat eater --- a little hamburger in a casserole, bratwurst now and then, the occasional pork loin chop. Truthfully, I prefer macaroni and cheese, big salads and fresh fruit. And I’m also still eating fish (I’m sure catfish and tuna have feelings, too).

It’s not clear where this is going, and I really do plan at some point to eat the small stash of breakfast sausage and an intimidatingly large turkey breast reposing in the freezer.

Maybe it has something to do with turning 65. According to reports last week, Bill Clinton passed that milestone, too --- and became a vegan. That’s just too much of step for me, I’m afraid.